Overheard, out and about, Mrs. Grundy sees all, tells all

Staff

Published Friday, November 28, 2008

Peeping through my Venetian blind, I watched the autumn leaves falling to the ground and then dancing like whirling dervishes across the road to Covington Hall.

The weather this week has hinged between cold and a second Indian summer.

Thanksgiving is over exept in our hearts, and Old Father Christmas is on his way for the good boys and girls. For the bad, such as Mr. Gried and Mr. Glutt, Congress, the President, CEOs, bank management, automobile management, and other Bailout Billys and Bettys, there await lumps of coal and switches. Lay it on, Santa!

I noticed that “Gasoline Alley,” a cartoon strip in the daily newspapers, is celebrating its 90th anniversary. I think it’s the longest running strip on record.

The Covington Historical Society met for the first time in its new building, the Sunshine House (appropriately painted yellow) on Stanley, recently deeded to the Society by the Altrusa Club, a ladies’ service club, which has decided to disband. A fine buffet, provided by members, was enjoyed prior to the business meeting and installation of 2009 officers: Dr. Morgan Moore, president; Sue Wilson, vice-president and historian; Evelyn Murphree, secretary; and Barbara Powell, treasurer. Officers were installed by the Society’s founding president and organizer, Joseph Cecil Wingard.

Anyone who attended or was graduated from Howard College (now Samford University), if interested in joining a Covington County chapter of Howard-Samford alumni, please call 222-6329. If no one is home, please leave your name and telephone number.

Mrs. Gotrocks of Greenville enjoys the annual Pilot Club’s Pancake Breakfast so much that she plans to drive down from Greenville to join the Covington girls, Miss Priscilla Primme, Miss Purdie Birdie, and me for the meal and fellowship. The Pilot ladies plan to start serving at 5:30 a.m. and go to noon on December 6, next Saturday, in the Kiwanis Building. This is one of the warmest, nicest, finest activities sponsored annually in the “Dimple of Dixie.” Go, gentle reader, and take someone. It’s wonderful! The ladies are saints to get up so early and do this.

Miss Jo Driggers of Lexington, South Carolina, who has traveled with “Miss Betty” Mitchell’s bus tours and thus made friends with many in this area, attended Nunsense, a musical comedy, playing at the Opera House in Newberry, South Carolina, and starring the well-known TV actress Sally Struthers.

The Oleander Club sponsored their annual Tasting Fair this past Sunday in the Adult Activity Center behind Church Street School.

Money earned from the project goes to fund a senior-citizens’ dinner the second Saturday in December, scholarships, and the hospitality room for the Christmas Basketball Tournament.

The spacious hall of the A.A.C. was filled with tables laden with a cornucopia of delectable, home-cooked foods. Patrons meandered from table to table, filling their plates. Oleander Emma Locke presided at the punch bowl.

Dressed in red, the club color, Oleanders were assisted by their junior, female members of the Oleander 2 Club.

Officers are Betty Traywick, president; Ruby Crittenden, vice-president; Mavene Nichols, secretary; Golar Church, treasurer; Thelma Thomas, chaplain; and Bertha Johnson, financial secretary.

Anybody who was anybody was there.

With other guests I spent half of Thanksgiving Day at Covington Hall. Miss Flora had decorated the banquet table in the main dining room with a centerpiece of artificial turkeys, pumpkins, pilgrims, and real flowers. The sideboard featured a cornucopia. I think even Alan Cotton would have been pleased.

Miss Cora, assisted by some of our friends, as well as by me, presented a feast of turkey and dressing, giblet gravy, cranberry sauce and salad, parsnips, Virginia ham, chicken and dumplings, game, oysters, clam chowder, congealed salads, corn-and-yellow-rice casserole, scalloped potatoes, English peas, yeast rolls, deviled eggs, home-made pickles, stuffed celery stalks, corn, potato salad, green-bean casserole, apple rings, peach pickles, greens, squash casserole, asparagus casserole, beets, and watermelon-rind preserves, such as Grace Larson always served at her Sunday buffets at her Gables Motor Hotel. Ah, Miss Grace! The “Mother of Andalusia!” I miss her.

For dessert we enjoyed pumpkin pie, sweet-potato pie, pecan pie, mincemeat pie, red-velvet cake, coconut pie and cake, butternut cake, chocolate layer cake, pound cake (inspired by Mrs. James Jones, the “Pound-Cake Lady”), Mrs. D.D. Chapman’s chocolate sheet cake, and lemon pie.

After desserts we adjourned to the quaint, little chapel that stands on Covington lands. There Miss Dora played – and we sang – some Thanksgiving hymns, such as “We Gather Together,” “Come, Ye Thankful People, Come,” and “Let All Things Now Living.” Colonel Covington sang a solo of “Bless This House.” Miss Primme recited Lydia Maria Child’s poem, “Thanksgiving Day.” Then we all sang it. Miss Dora played several solos, including the stately “Thanks Be to God,” which reminded me of the lovely duet played by Jeanice Kirkland at the organ and Mary Clyde Merrill at the piano last Sunday at First Baptist.

The blessing for the meal was worded by Colonel Covington, who concluded by quoting Psalms 65: ll – l3, “Thou crownest the year with Thy bounty; the tracks of Thy chariot drip with fatness. The pastures of the wilderness drip, the hills gird themselves with joy, the meadows clothe themselves with flocks, the valleys deck themselves with grain, they shout and sing together for joy.”

That afternoon we sat and talked by an open fire as we sipped cider and indulged in second helpings. Miss Cora popped corn, which, gentle reader, you may not realize, was part of the original Thanksgiving.

Elsewhere the younger set were hunting and enjoying other sports, a traditional part of Thanksgiving from Plymouth days. We older ones dwelt more upon the family and worship.

The Portly Gentleman enjoys attending homecoming each October at his alma mater, Samford University in Birmingham. He promised he’d tell Miss Cora, Miss Dora, Miss Flora, and me all about it, so one afternoon at tea we heard the following.

“On my drive up I-65 I stopped in Calera to take my cousin, Carolyn Reynolds Ferguson, to eat at the Cracker Barrel there. Her place is for sale; and I’ve asked Don and Dot Lingle to give it a look-see, since they’re determined to move off to be closer to their grandson in Birmingham.

“I checked into my hotel in Pelham for the weekend and drove on up to Samford, singing, as is my custom, the old alma mater as I passed through the campus gates.

“Recently Samford has adopted new words to the old tune. This I do not approve. Whoever heard of changing an alma mater? It’s just not done. I shall always sing the old words, the original words, the correct words. Talk about heart attacks!

“Right off the bat I ran into old friends, Mr. and Mrs. Squire Gwin.

“In the student center I looked up Jennifer (Dunn) Hall, the daughter of Joe and Ruthie “Sister” Dunn of Shreveport. Jennifer was out of pocket, but I explored the college bookstore and purchased a copy of Aristotle’s Rhetoric and Poetics. (I hope you’re impressed.)

“I waddled over to the annual alumni meeting in Hanna Hall. I had forgotten how hard it is to walk at Samford because of its resting on a hill. I huffed and puffed like the wolf in ‘The Three Little Pigs.’

“There were Dr. Andy Westmoreland, the president of Samford, who has spoken at First Baptist here; Dr. Sigurd Bryan, honored and retired professor in religion; and Dr. Ray Atchison and his wife Doris, my ol’ professor of English, retired. It is good to find old, familiar faces when one ‘goes home.’ I missed Dr. John Jeffers and his wife, who always attended the alumni meeting. Dr. Jeffers died this past year. He once served as pastor of First Baptist, Andalusia, before moving to Auburn to First Baptist there. He was living in retirement in Auburn when he died.

“An evensong in the English style, a little bit of Heaven, followed in the Hodges Chapel, perhaps the most beautiful building in Alabama. My former student, Elliott Dansby, son of Neal and Jennifer (Smith) Dansby, was ushering. When he finished, he came and stood by his old teacher. We worshipped and sang, side by side. In the intervals there was silence. Silence is so much better than applause, which has become the ‘fashionable’ thing to do in some congregations, because the silence lends itself more to reverence and holiness, more to worship. Applause smacks of entertainment and vulgarity. Elliott and his sister Judith Ann both attend Samford.

“That evening in Wright Hall a tribute of testimonials and music was paid to Dr. Gene Black, retired, who taught music at Samford 35 years, especially the famous A Cappella Choir. It lasted three and a half hours. Hundreds of Dr. Black’s A Cappella Choir students returned to participate. At the end the A Cappella Choir, famous all over the world, sang its theme song, ‘Beautiful Savior.’

“The next morning I heard Dr. Wayne Flynt and Kate Campbell present a program in the Davis Library. Dr. Flynt read from Alabama authors; Miss Campbell played and sang her own songs, complementary to the readings. Dr. Flynt, a Samford graduate, once taught at Samford and is retired from Auburn, probably the best-known Alabama historian living. This was my second time to hear this program, which they had presented in Monroeville last May at a writers’ conference.

“When Kate sang one of her songs, ‘Jesus Is the Way Home,’ I wept quietly. I had wept in Monroeville when I had heard her sing it for the first time. This is a song every church needs to include in its worship.

“Davis Library has been renovated into a grand place; but I miss the old rooms I knew as a freshman, especially the old Special Collections Room run by Mrs. Bee. Change comes, but we always lose something. Change is never without consequences. It is never made in a vacuum. The sad thing is that change is not always for the better; and when folks find that out, it is too late. The Rubicon has been crossed.

“Among those I saw were Drs. John and Frances Carter, the heart of Samford’s education department for decades; Bill Nunnelley, the publications king of Samford; Dr. Harold Hunt, my ol’ (but not old) speech teacher; and Fred and Jean (Byrd) Slaughter of Wetumpka, with whom Sue (Bass) Wilson and I traveled to England.

“Outside I walked down the Centennial Walk, a flight of steps, gardens, quotations, and memorial bricks, leading up the hillside to the Harwell Goodwin Davis Library, right in the middle of campus. It celebrates Samford’s l00 years in Birmingham, first at the old East Lake campus and then on Lakeshore Drive in Homewood. Along the walk I found a stone in memory of Gilbert Guffin, one-time, interim pastor of First Baptist, Andalusia. As a freshman and cub reporter for the Crimson I had interviewed him weekly for news. Dr. Guffin was head of the religion department at Samford.

“I also found a step given by Luther Cross ‘L.C.’ Mullins, Jr., Howard (Samford grew out of Howard College) Class of l948, former Andalusian, in memory of his dad.

“I sat with others on the hillside lawn to watch the parade around Sherman Circle (named for the first Howard president). It included Dr. and Mrs. Westmoreland, the band playing the fight song, Bulldog mascot, cars, floats, homecoming court, sorority and fraternity floats, a kazoo band, and antique fire engine. I had an idea for another entry – someone dressed as Sherman, pushing a wheelbarrow of books. The first president actually did that in Marion, Alabama, where Howard began, to collect the first library. “As the parade continued, children climbed trees and rolled down the hill. Samford lends itself to rolling and sliding. We used to take cafeteria trays when it snowed and zoom down the hills to our peril.

“The Quad was alive with band music, touch football games, alumni, children, fall colors, bright light, and a giant air balloon.

“I ambled over to an out-door ‘health fair’ and found out that I was at Death’s door. I turned around to find Ronald and Gladys Davis. He’s a retired preacher and, currently, interim at Bethany Baptist. They were up to see their grandson, Brent Nall (#3l) play football for the Samford Bulldogs that afternoon. Brent’s parents, Tony and Donna (Davis), were up, too; but I missed them. Ronald and I watched a hotdog-eating contest while Gladys, at the ‘health fair,’ was seeing if her bones were passable. The winner of the eating contest, Dr. Hogue, ate only seven ‘dogs. I think I could have beaten that. By the way, the Davises’ other daughter, Annette, has a boy playing football at Auburn.

“Also at the ‘health fair’ were Dr. Ray Atchison, Class of l943, and his wife, Doris (Teague), Class of l948. Dr. Atchison, my ol’ English professor, is one of the most youthful, delightful, eternal persons I have ever known. He just bubbles with life! We can’t get together without stumbling over each other’s words and laughs. We have a running debate over America’s greater poet, Longfellow or Frost. (It’s Longfellow, of course.)

“The Atchisons have a grandson at Samford, a senior, and one who’s about to be a freshman.

“I begged Dr. Atchison to write his autobiography; he said he had notes for one and shared some with me.

“After World War II he earned a master’s and taught English at old Howard for Major Davis, a central figure in Samford’s history, its one-time president, for whom the library is named.

“Major Davis told young Atchison that he – Atchison — had ‘marriage readiness.’ Surely enough, it wasn’t long before Dr. Atchison fell for Doris, a student at the time at the old campus of East Lake, though not one of his. He didn’t know it at the time, but she had her eye on him, too.

“Returning to the bookstore, I ran into the Davises again and found a copy of Dr. Bryan’s autobiographical book, Because They Lived. The bookstore manager had only three left and graciously gave me one.

“I took lunch in the ‘Caf’ (cafeteria), a large, attractive, paneled, many-windowed, pilastered, sunny room where one pays one price and then ‘grazes’ as long as he wishes.

“In the ‘Caf’ I found Dr. Bryan and got him to autograph his book. I ate with Mary Wimberly, the college news and feature writer, who so conscientiously and thoroughly promotes Samford. Dr. Hunt, my ol’ speech professor, and I talked a long time. Dr. Hunt, who never seems to age, has that sincere, caring, sunny disposition that makes him welcome company and like a breath of fresh air whenever he enters a room. He gave me a spare ticket to the football game that afternoon, bless him. One other I ran into was Ann (Franklin) Marchino, at Howard l96l – l965. She finished at Holtville High School, as did my dad and his first cousin, Betty (Garner) Dozier. Ann went to Holtville with Betty and with Joyce Cox of Deatsville. Joyce was later a student at Howard and became the wife of Dr. Ken Bush, pastor at First Baptist, Eufaula. In fact, Ann and Joyce roomed together at Howard. Ann was accompanied by her sister, Faye (Franklin) Allen. Faye is a friend to Fred and Jean Slaughter of Wetumpka. ‘It’s a small world.’

“I also met Patti Sue (Mullins) Donaldson, a first cousin to L. C. Mullins, Jr., and daughter to Fred Ferguson Mullins, a brother to L. C. Mullins, Sr., and uncle of L. C. Mullins, Jr.. Patti Sue’s husband is Frank W. Donaldson, a U.S. judge for the Northern district of Alabama, who once taught at Cumberland School of Law at Samford.

“Before the game I waddled over to find Mark Baggett, English-and-law professor, with whom I’ve traveled to England, Scotland, and Ireland, a friend indeed. He was away, so I left a note and huffed over to Seibert Stadium to see the Bulldogs defeat the Citadel of Charleston 28 – l0. A long, inflated, plastic, red tunnel with an entrance shaped like a giant, bulldog head was used by the home team to run out onto the field. The famous Pat Sullivan coached the Bulldogs.

“In the printed, football program was a full page on Brent Nall of Straughn. I hope Tony and Donna and Ronald and Gladys got copies.

“I don’t know much about sports; but even I was totally impressed by one of our opponents, Andre Roberts of the Citadel. He fantastically caught two seemingly impossible passes, jumping for the Moon and drawing the ball to him as if by magic. I dubbed him ‘Mr. Elastic.’

“As I was leaving the stadium, I stumbled upon Dr. and Mrs. David Chapman, with whom I went to England in 2005, and enjoyed a happy reunion.

“I couldn’t leave Homewood without a visit to Savage’s Bakery. There I bought some Halloween cookies, which I later gave to Myrtle Ruth Welch and Gertrude Nelson, and, of course, petite fours. Ah, petite fours in a white box! Could anything be more elegant?

“I drove on over to Mount Royal Towers, a retirement home where our own Guy Wiggins lives. There I took dinner in the dining hall with Guy and his lady-friend, Elsie (Cagle) Bryant. We held hands as Guy worded the blessing. Guy winked at me and said, ‘That’s not the only time I hold her hand.’ Guy, who turned 93 November l, often leads the music and sings at the Sunday church services in Mount Royal. In fact he and his daughter were to sing a duet the next morning.

“We ate four courses, soup, salad, entree, and dessert. The table was nicely appointed with cloth napkins, cloth covering, bread plates, and coffee at the end. Elsie’s friend, Gussie Smith, joined us for coffee and chat.

“Back on campus I attended a concert of instrumental and vocal music, climaxed by a mass choir, including the A Cappella choirs, directed by Gene Black. I heard a wind ensemble, organ, string orchestra, guitarist, violinist, chorale, the current A Cappella Choir, the A Cappella Choir Alumni, and combined choirs.

“Sunday morning I worshipped again in the Hodges Chapel, that miniature cathedral, that temple of sun-searched beauty. Stan Davis, formerly of Andalusia, now employed by Samford, sat with me. I was pleased when we sang the hymn, “Like a River Glorious.” Dr. Sigurd Bryan, Class of l946, worded the memorial prayer for those associated with Samford who had died during the past year.

“Before leaving campus, I found a copy of the student newspaper, the Crimson, and was pleased to see an article in it by my former student, Judith Ann Dansby. I picked up several copies to give her parents.

“On my way home I stopped again in Calera to visit my cousin, Carolyn, and at Durbin Farms in Clanton (Mary Clyde Merrill Country) for peach ice-cream. To my shock, at Durbin, I ran smack-dab into Jeanne Bozeman of Andalusia, heading home from a weekend in Birmingham, visiting her two sons, Brad (still single, and happy) and Todd. She said Todd had spent the weekend hunting, but that gave her a chance to enjoy his two girls, Taylor and Kaitlyn. Jeanne said that she had gone up to see the girls, anyway, not Todd; so there.”

That concludes the news from the Portly Gentleman.

Fare thee well, gentle reader.